


Blood Blossoms Are Red

by Emachinescat



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Gen, Mystery, Suspense, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-23
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 14:32:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1229962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emachinescat/pseuds/Emachinescat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blood blossoms are red, your ghost sense is blue, but now your powers are gone, and we're coming for you. Danny's ghost powers mysteriously vanish when he stumbles upon an illegal drug operation in Amity Park. Alone, powerless, and hunted, Danny must get out of this himself, because this time, not even Danny Phantom can help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Flight of the Box Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Don't own. This hasn't been completed yet, but I'll add chapters as I write them. Please read and let me know what you think! Enjoy!

It was amazing, really, the amount of trouble Danny could get himself into just by going to the movies on a Friday night. Most teenagers could go out with their friends on the weekends, with nothing to worry about other than getting busted for breaking curfew or getting kicked out of R-rated movies. But nearly every evening out with Sam and Tucker ended in some kind of ghost-related peril, which, in turn, ended in many bruises, cuts, and splattered ectoplasm for Danny. It wasn't that Danny didn't want to protect Amity Park from ghosts anymore, but he would like to have at least  _one_ weekend where he wasn't Danny Phantom.

At first, it seemed like everything was going to be normal for a change. Danny and his friends had gotten through the entire movie without a ghost phasing through the screen, screams of "Ghost!" emanating from outside the theater, or any other supernatural setbacks. Danny had three large cups of soda and had been to the bathroom twice during the movie and hadn't gotten attacked  _once_.

Then came the walk back to Danny's place. Since the night was still young, the teens planned to chill at Danny's house after the movie. As they were walking down the deserted sidewalk, Danny thought he heard a strange noise from somewhere up ahead, a sort of wailing. A wisp of freezing air came out of his mouth and he sighed. "Knew it was too good to last," he said glumly. "Sorry, guys. I'm going ghost!"

A rush of cold air swept through him. No matter how many times Danny changed into his ghost form, he could never quite get used to the feeling of his blood turning to ice. He could almost feel every cell in his body freezing, his blood turning to ectoplasm and his pulse slowing down. A surge of power welled up inside of him and he breathed deeply, exhilarated. Even if he sometimes resented having to give up his free time hunting ghosts, he wouldn't give up his powers for anything. He was making a difference, and was having a great time doing it.

"Go ahead, Danny!" Tucker said. "We'll catch up. Do your thing, man, and we should still have time to hang."

"See you guys at my place!" Danny agreed, taking off, closing his eyes briefly as the wind ruffled through his white hair.

As he flew toward the sound, he faintly heard Sam's voice calling out to him. "Be careful!"

He smiled and dove toward the alley that was apparently being haunted by… He squinted, then grinned. The Box Ghost. Boy, was this going to be easy!

He descended easily, coming to a smooth stop several feet above the ground. He hovered there, arms across his chest, and feet planted firmly on thin air. "Didn't I just put send you back to the Ghost Zone last week?" he asked, rolling his eyes.

The Box Ghost was not at all perturbed by his foe's exasperation. "I am the Box Ghost!" he announced, waving his arms wildly in the air to emphasize his point. "You cannot contain me in your silly Ghost Zone! Where there are boxes, I shall always be! Do you want to know why?"

Danny shook his head. "No, not really."

"Because I am the Box Ghost! Beware!"

Danny sighed. "Okay, let's get this over with, because I've got somewhere to be." He held out the Fenton Thermos. "Any chance you'll willingly go in here to save us both the time and trouble? We both know how this is going to end."

"You cannot put me in that cylindrical container! You cannot stop me!"

"Dude, I've sucked you into the Fenton Thermos, like, twenty times before. Let's just get this over with. What're you attacking with this time? Props? Umbrellas? The random doo-dads of some dead old guy?"

"Prepare to be pummeled by…" The Box Ghost took a moment to peer at the unmarked boxes lying on the sides of the alley and around an empty black van that Danny just now noticed, parked in the shadows in the rear of the alleyway. When he saw that there was nothing written to identify the contents of the boxes, he proceeded to make his head intangible and poke it into the box to find out for himself. Not ten seconds later did he pull his head back out, yelping like he'd just been shocked, and flew away, screeching, "Bad box! Baaaad box! Stay awaaaay!" Then he was gone.

Danny contemplated going after him, but he knew that the Box Ghost wasn't going to cause any real harm. Besides, he was more than a little curious about what was in that box. He quickly changed back into his human form, landing agilely on his red-sneaker clad feet. He crept slowly for the box, wondering what could be in there that was so scary it scared a ghost away? Then he reminded himself that the ghost  _was_  the Box Ghost, so it could have simply been bouncy balls or tin cans or something of the non-square variety. Still, it wouldn't hurt to be wary.

"Just one little peek," he told himself, "and then I'll head on to meet Tucker and Sam." He ignored the nagging little voice in the back of his head that insisted this was a bad idea, and reached for the box's lid. It wasn't taped, so he was able to open it easily. At first glance, he wasn't sure what he was looking at. There were bottles and bags, filled with a strange pink-ish powder. Other bottles had pills and still others held some sort of clear liquid. Frowning, Danny reached out to take one of the containers in order to examine it better. He was so intent on what he was doing that he didn't hear the footsteps behind him until it was too late.

Something crashed into the back of his skull, hard, and a blinding white light exploded behind his eyes. He stumbled, stunned, and tried to stutter out, "I-I'm g-g-g—" but another blow struck him on the right side of his head, just above his ear. The world turned red and swam before his eyes.

The last thing he remembered before losing consciousness was the hard, rough asphalt rushing up to meet him and the sound of cruel laughter from somewhere up above.


	2. Why Ghosts Are Better Than Humans

When Danny woke up, he couldn't move, see, or, apparently, speak, considering that the first thing he did upon returning to consciousness was attempt to declare, "I'm going ghost!" Unfortunately for him, all that came out was a muffled, " _Irmf grrrimph grrrrss!_ "

This was when he realized that he had been gagged as well as tied and blindfolded, and he did everything that he could to stay calm, which was difficult. The fact of the matter was, he should have been able to "go ghost" even if he hadn't been able to say the words. He liked his catchphrase; it was clever, he thought, and every good superhero needed one. But he didn't  _have_  to say it in order to change. It was sort of like there was some kind of mental switch that he flicked when it was time to let Danny Phantom take over, and the transformation would follow. The words were just for show (and for fun. Mostly for fun.). But this time, when he tried to go ghost, nothing happened, except he started to panic, big time.

This couldn't be happening. Why the heck was this happening? And, on that note,  _what_  the heck was this that was happening? Danny took a deep breath through his nose and tried to remember what had led him here. His ghost sense had gone off, he'd traded threats with the Box Ghost, and then…

The boxes! The drugs. And he'd been caught snooping, which meant that he was probably being carted off to who knows where by a very irritated drug dealer or gang member. But that didn't explain why he couldn't phase, or why he felt so sick and weak. Granted, he  _had_  been bashed in the head a couple of times – his killer headache was a testament to that – but this was different. He felt totally off, like he had the flu, and so did his alter-ego.

Danny knew that if he didn't find a way to go ghost soon, his situation was only going to get a  _whole_  lot worse. Ghosts, he was used to dealing with, but humans? He knew from watching detective shows like  _NCIS_  and  _CSI_ and  _Psych_  with his sister on occasion that people were essentially crazy, and people in the criminal world were dangerous, deadly, and beyond reasoning. Without his ghost powers, he was dead meat.

He desperately tried to take his mind off of his fear, and instead decided to employ his remaining senses in trying to figure out where he was and what was going on. He lay still and concentrated, listening for any indication of where he might be. All he could hear was a steady rumble, like that of an engine, and that was when he realized that the room he was in was vibrating. No, not a room, a van! He remembered seeing the half-packed, unmarked van by the boxes of drugs before he had been knocked out. He was obviously being taken somewhere, and judging by the smoothness of the ride, he was being driven on major highway or interstate with no potholes. This was a (small) silver lining: He wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle being tossed around in the back of a van like a trussed up rag doll.

Just as this thought passed through his foggy brain, Danny felt a jolt and slid sharply to the left as the vehicle made a sharp right onto what seemed to be a  _very_  bumpy back road.  _Great,_  he thought grimly as he and whatever was with him in the van – probably those boxes of illegal drugs that the Box Ghost had been so terrified of –  _apparently the universe can read minds, and it's decided to prove me wrong because I_ thought _something semi-positive!_

As he was jostled around wildly in the back of the van, Danny fought the urge to panic. Whatever was wrong with him, it would pass, surely. Then he would be able to go ghost and get out. He thought about how simple ghost-fighting was compared to this. No matter how big and bad his nemesis from the Ghost Zone was, there was a pattern to fighting ghosts. He would go ghost, exchange a few rounds of witty banter, get knocked around a little bit, maybe do some research, come back and  _BAM!_  His newly beaten foe would get sucked into the Thermos and be sent back into the Ghost Zone with its metaphorical (or sometimes literal, depending on the ghost) tail tucked between its legs. Simple.

Plus, Danny could kind of see why ghosts lashed out and did what they did. Heck, he could chill in the Ghost Zone as long as the next dead guy, but he certainly wouldn't want to spend all of his time there, what with all the purple and green. Even nice colors got obnoxious after a couple of millennia of staring at them. And, they were  _ghosts_. Haunting people and causing trouble was kind of their job description. So there was a bit of rhyme and reason to their antics. But  _people_ , on the other hand…

Danny had always viewed the bad guys on TV shows as just that – fictional characters that existed purely for the entertainment of the viewer. But he was learning very quickly that this wasn't the case. There were people out there – real,  _human_  people – that chose to do bad stuff like deal drugs and kidnap cool half-ghost teenage superheroes, and Danny just couldn't understand why. At least ghosts did what they did out of a sense of identity. These people… they did it for profit, or maybe even  _fun_. Danny decided that sometimes he liked ghosts better than humans, and this was  _definitely_  one of those times.

About fifteen minutes after the van pulled off onto the bumpy road, Danny felt the vehicle turn again, this time to the left. Instead of continuing on, however, the van came to a sudden stop and Danny was flung unceremoniously into some boxes behind him. He grunted, tensing when he heard a door open and shut up front, and then footsteps on gravel toward the back of the van. Danny desperately thought,  _I'm going ghost!_  over and over, as if by mentally repeating his mantra he might be able to convince his on-the-fritz powers that they needed to work.

It was a fruitless effort, as nothing happened except the back of the van swung open. Just a few seconds later, Danny felt large hands pick him up, and he was swung over someone's broad shoulders in a fireman's carry. No one said a word, and the only sound Danny heard was that of gravel crunching under boots beneath him.

It was chilly outside, and the teenager felt the wind nipping at his bare forearms, ears, and nose as he was carried somewhere. A couple of minutes later, the person carrying him stopped, and there was the sound of someone knocking on a door. A voice, high and scratchy, and muffled, sounded from the other side of the door. "Who is it?"

"Me," came a voice from right beside Danny, and it was clear and soft, slightly accented, but with what kind of accent, Danny couldn't quite tell.

Apparently, a simple "me" sufficed for identification, for the next moment, there was a high  _creeeeak_  as a door was opened, and as Danny's captor moved forward, the sound of several pairs of shoes on the floor met his ears.

Wherever he had been taken, it was inside – and heated. Despite the terror of the situation, Danny couldn't help but feel relieved when the warm air caressed his skin, warming him up. His head was still pounding, though, and that sick feeling still emanated through his whole body. He heard a soft  _thud_  as something – presumably boxes of drugs – was set down on the ground nearby. Danny remained on his captor's shoulders for the time being, as they apparently hadn't gotten around to discussing what they were going to do to him yet.

Finally, the same voice that had questioned the drug-dealing kidnappers at the door spoke up again. "Who's the kid?"

Danny's ears perked up considerably; he knew that they would probably be deciding his fate in the near future. The guy holding him answered, "I dunno. Scrags, Jolt, and I found him snooping around the merchandise after the trade. He'd seen too much, so we had to take him with us."

"This is just great," Baddie Number One growled, and Danny stiffened at the anger in his tone. "We've already got enough to deal with, what with Cougar on our tails for more profit, and now we've got a hostage? We can't afford to be distracted by him."

"See, I  _told_  ya we shoulda just wasted him in the alley," the whiny voice of another thug to Danny's left griped.

"He's just a kid!" protested the man who was still toting Danny on his shoulders. "We aren't murderers, anyway!"

"Not yet, anyway," came a new voice, this one deep and strong, from Danny's right, and Danny's stomach clenched tighter in fear.

"So, what are we gonna do with him?" queried Baddie Number Three, or as Danny decided to call him, Whiney.

"We'll take him to Cougar tomorrow," decided Baddie Number One. "Let him decide what we do with the kid. Until then, stick him in the cellar with the loot."

Whiney asked, "Are you sure Cougar's not gonna waste  _us_  for letting this kid get so close to our operation? Maybe we should get rid of him now, and Cougar doesn't have to know anything about it. Eh?"

 _Don't listen to Whiney, don't listen to Whiney,_  Danny internally pleaded.

"We're taking him to Cougar," Baddie Number Two, or "Me", declared. "It's been decided, so shut it, Scrags."

"Me's right," said the first guy. "Now, lock him up; if he's awake under that blindfold, he doesn't need to hear any of our plans. Get him out of sight and out of earshot. With any luck, we'll be rid of him by tomorrow."

Whiney – Scrags – grumbled, but Danny could hear his footsteps clunking away irritably. The man holding him – whose name was apparently  _Me_ , ironically enough, explaining the odd scene at the door – began to walk again. Danny's head spun as he felt himself being carried through unknown territory and down some stairs, apparently to the cellar, and then he was dumped on the floor. Something else – boxes, he was sure – were placed near him by another of his kidnappers. The blindfold was untied, but the gag and ropes around his wrists and ankles stayed in place. Deciding that it would be best if his captors thought he had been unconscious the whole time, Danny kept his eyes closed and breathing as even as possible even after the blindfold was removed.

He was left lying on the cold cellar floor as two sets of heavy footsteps faded up the stairs. The cellar door slammed shut, and Danny heard a lock clicking into place. One thought ran through Danny's frantic mind, even as he finally opened his eyes to better assess his situation:  _What the heck have I gotten myself into this time?_


	3. The Cougar

Danny was bored.

He had been tied up in this cellar for hours, with nothing to entertain him other than periodically trying – and failing miserably – to "go ghost". Each time he tried and didn't succeed, his already low morale dropped even more, and by the tenth time he was trying to shift forms, he had all but given up, and was just focusing all his spectral energy on changing, while yelling his muffled catchphrase beneath the gag to pass the time.

He  _had_  managed to wriggle into a sitting position, which was a bit better than lying down on the hard, cold ground. He was now leaning against a cool cement wall, his exhaustion-hazed blue eyes drifting around lazily for any sight of the only other living creature that was down here with him – a thin grey rat about the length of his palm, not including the tail, that had scampered across the floor about an hour ago. Danny hadn't seen the critter since. He wasn't especially fond of rodents or anything, but it was nice to know that he wasn't entirely alone down here.

He stiffened as he heard a footstep sound near the door at the top of the stairs. A moment later, the door squeaked open, and Danny's heart caught in his throat. He tried to shove down the fear, and tried to tell himself that he was a hero, darn it, and he wasn't scared of anything. Unfortunately, his little mental pep talk didn't quite work, because he knew all too well that Danny  _Fenton_  wasn't a hero – only Danny  _Phantom_  was.

Still, he screwed up his courage, trying to tell himself that it was silly for him to be so afraid of people when he fought  _ghosts_  – entities that most normal people greatly feared – on a daily basis. Then again, Danny was about the furthest thing from  _normal_ , and, as he'd already established, he was used to ghosts. Humans, on the other hand? Well, suffice it to say that he could barely get along with the  _good_  ones!

His visitor reached the bottom of the stairs. Since Danny had had plenty of time to get used to the dim light of the basement, he was quickly able to determine that it was a tall, well-muscled guy with long black hair pulled back into a ponytail, small, narrow eyes, and some of the thickest, wildest eyebrows that Danny had ever seen. He recognized the voice as Me's when the guy said, "Right, kid. Time to go."

Danny's eyes widened. They were moving him already? He had thought he'd have at least a few more hours to come up with a plan (not that he'd been doing such a great job of thinking up ideas of how to escape and/or jumpstart his on-the-fritz ghost powers as it was). "Mmmgrrrfff plrrfffnerrrgg!" he informed his captor, his pleas lost in the gag.

Me glanced around furtively and then knelt back down beside Danny. "Look, kid, I know you're scared and all, but I ain't no murderer, especially not a kid-killer. I'll do what I can to get the boss to let you go, but make sure you behave. Got it?"

Danny swallowed, wondering if he really had a sort-of ally in Me, or if this was actually some kind of ploy to keep him from causing any trouble.

A voice sounded from the top of the stairs. "Hey, Me, grab the kid already, and let's go! And grab one of those boxes on the way. Boss's gonna want to see some results."

"Alright, alright, gimme a minute, will ya?" Me snapped. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small bottle half-filled with clear liquid, and a cloth. "'Kay, kiddo," the kidnapper said gruffly. "Naptime."

Danny eyed the bottle with contempt, simultaneously trying to wiggle away from Me, but with no avail. Before he could protest, or even try to go ghost again (because maybe even though it hadn't worked for the past five hours, maybe this time, the results would be different! he thought sarcastically), the now soaked cloth was shoved under his nose, a sickeningly sweet odor assaulted his senses, and the world went splotchy, and finally, everything went black.

Again.

* * *

It was the morning after Danny had left Sam and Tucker to fight a ghost after the movies, and now the whole school new the news – Danny Fenton, that dork who hung out with the geek and the Goth, was missing, and suddenly, the dark-haired nobody was more popular than ever at Casper High.

"You know," Sam griped, fuming as she sat beside Tucker at lunch, "it's really dumb. Danny's finally popular, and he's not around to see it."

"Yeah," Tucker agreed, stabbing his mystery meatloaf with his fork and watching it jiggle. "For once, Paulina can't stop talking about him, and he's nowhere to be found. Speaking of which, tell me again  _why_  we're just sitting here at school while Danny's AWOL?"

"We wouldn't be if I had anything to say about it," Sam growled. "My stupid parents thought it would help me deal with my anxiety better if I went about my daily business. 'You're not going to be able to do anything, anyway. The police will find your friend. Knowing that trouble-maker, he probably just, what do you kids say these days? – ditched you!'" she mocked, her violet eyes flashing.

"Yeah, and my folks are the same," Tucker agreed glumly. "But don't feel too bad, because Jazz had to go to school, too, while Mr. and Mrs. F help the police and do some 'ghost hunting' of their own. I think they're on the right track with the ghost angle. I mean, he  _was_  going after one last night before he disappeared." He paused, then sighed and added wistfully, "Man, if Danny were here, he'd just be able to go ghost, turn himself and us invisible, and then get past Lancer and ditch this place so we could find him."

Sam gave her friend an odd look. "Hate to break it to you, Tucker, but if Danny were here, we wouldn't need to leave school to find him."

"That'd be one nasty paradox," Tucker nodded. Sam rolled her eyes at Tucker's geek-speak and went back to glaring at her salad.

A couple of minutes later, she looked up. "We need to get to Danny's parents' lab after school, as soon as we can. If Danny was taken by that ghost he sensed yesterday, then the police aren't going to be able to do anything to find him."

"What's the lab gonna do?" Tucker wondered. "Does Danny have some sort of tracking device implanted in his butt that we can track or something?"

Sam raised an eyebrow and wrinkled her nose. "You disturb me," she informed Tucker seriously.

Tucker nodded. "Duly noted. But I still don't get it."

"I think," Sam explained, lowering her voice and leaning closer to Tucker conspiratorially, "that if we can get into the Ghost Zone, we might be able to find some information from the ghosts about where Danny is. Maybe they can tell us. Or, who knows, there might be one willing to help us look for him. Doubt it, since most of them probably want to rip him to shreds for sending them back to the Zone, but it's worth a shot."

"Yeah. Man, I really hope he's all right."

Sam nodded, looking distractedly out of the cafeteria window at nothing in particular, and trying to prevent the tears from coming to her eyes. "Me too, Tucker."

* * *

Danny woke up with a pounding head and a mouth so dry that it felt like he had been eating cotton balls. Without opening his eyes, he tried to will himself to go ghost, but, as was the usual lately, nothing happened, other than that his stomach turned dangerously. Luckily, he managed to ride out the worst of the nausea before he opened his eyes once more, happy to see, at least, that he still wasn't blindfolded. Upon further inspection, he realized that the gag was gone, too, although he was now tied securely to a sturdy wooden chair in the middle of a surprisingly clean and bright room with log walls and a high, cathedral-esque ceiling, held together nicely with several criss-crossing support beams.

No one was in the room with him, but one of those mysterious drug boxes was sitting across the room against one of the otherwise bare walls. Even though Danny realized that he had to be out of the public's hearing distance for the gag to be off, his desperation to get help momentarily outweighed his better judgment – which said that if he started making noise, he'd just alert his captors that he was awake – and shouted, "HELP! Anyone out there? Anyone? HEEELLLP!"

Silence. Danny waited for several tense moments, but nothing happened. He slumped back in his chair, defeated, but thinking that maybe he should keep his mouth shut for a little bit, just to be safe. Yelling out and announcing to his kidnappers that he was awake probably hadn't been the best idea.

At that moment, he heard several pairs of footsteps approaching the only door in the room, a high-framed door to the left of him. Danny tensed as he saw the handle move slightly, but no one came in yet. Instead, he heard whoever was out there continue to talk to each other. Danny heard Scraggs's voice, as well as Me's and another man's voice, this one deeper and more gravelly than any of the others he had heard so far since his capture. He had a nasty feeling that the unidentified speaker was the head of the operation, the "Cougar". Fear clenched its cold hand over Danny's pounding heart again, but he shoved it down, determined to be as brave – or almost as brave, at any rate – as Danny Phantom would be in this situation.

"Look, we couldn't just kill him!" Me's voice argued tersely, and Danny silently applauded his sort-of defender. "I mean, like I said, he's just a teenager!"

"We thought you'd know what to do with him!" Scraggs's voice chipped in.

"You two are morons," the deep, gravelly voice growled from right outside the door. "You can't figure out what to do with one insignificant little kid, and now you've left  _me_  to clean up the mess! Do you have  _any_  idea how much other crap I've got to do right now? And now  _this_."

"Maybe we could let him go. He's been blindfolded, and he doesn't know where he's been."

"Shut up, idiot. I'll figure out what to do with whatever snot-nosed little brat you've decided to dump on me, and you just focus on doing what I've told you to do. Don't worry, Me. I'm one heck of a babysitter," the voice said sinisterly, and Danny gulped at the sheer animosity he heard in it. "Now head out."

"But—"

"Me, come on, stop being a baby. Let's go," Scraggs hissed, and Danny heard their footsteps receding back the way they had come.

There was a dark, muttered curse from the other side of the door, and then the knob turned, and Danny's new 'babysitter' stepped through the door. When his eyes fell on Danny, the man's mouth dropped open, and he started to laugh. Danny could only stare at the Cougar's next words – because although he had never seen this man in his entire life, this notorious boss apparently knew exactly who Danny was, and was  _much_  too delighted about it for Danny's comfort.

"Well, if it isn't Danny Fenton," the voice cackled. "What are the odds? My, my, this is going to be  _so_  much more fun than I originally anticipated."


	4. I Know Something You Don't Know!

The Cougar didn't exactly look like Danny had expected him to. From everything he'd seen on TV, or that Sam had read about in books and told him, he fully expected the leader of a gang – especially of the drug ring variety – to be very tall, very muscular, and to have a bunch of scars on his mustachioed face. He'd have a ton of tattoos, piercings, and his head would be bald.

Well, this guy had a moustache, but that was where the similarities between Danny's expectation and the reality of the situation ended. The Cougar was short for a grown man, just an inch or so taller than Danny was. His hair was thick and black, slicked back in a way that the creep probably thought was stylish, but in actuality looked like he'd just dunked his head in a vat of grease. He kind of looked like a plump version of a gangster out of the 1920s. His eyes were small and piggy, his nose large and slightly upturned, and his lips were thin, and were currently pulled back over his shiny white teeth in a bizarre, creepy grin. He had a large, black moustache peppered with grey, but was otherwise clean shaven. He wore a crisp, dark blue suit with polished buttons and a black tie. His shoes were black and so polished that the light reflecting from the dull bulb overhead to the pristinely cleaned footwear was almost blinding.

The man was still chortling, and Danny was becoming more freaked out by the second. Apparently, this wacko thought that he knew Danny, but the teenager had never seen this creep before. When he spoke, The Cougar's voice was threatening, but also kind of gleeful, like he couldn't be more pleased with his captive. This was strange, considering that before he had entered the room and seen his "visitor," he had sounded supremely annoyed that his minions had bothered him with a hostage instead of dealing with him themselves. Suddenly, Danny wanted to be anywhere other than here – he would even take chilling out in the basement with the rat to being in the same building with the crazy jerk still giggling in front of him.

His captor finally stopped laughing, and took a couple of steps forward, a dark gleam in his eyes. Now that he was only a few feet from Danny, the latter could see that the guy had dark green eyes, and they were swimming in mirth – not the good, happy-go-lucky kind of mirth, either. The gleeful, I-can't-wait-to-find-out-your-pain-threshold kind that Danny had only ever attributed to serial killers and psychos on  _CSI_. He swallowed, eyeing The Cougar nervously. He wanted to make a snarky comment, like he would be doing if he had his powers and the guy facing him were a ghostly adversary.

"Well, well, well," The Cougar said in a sing-song tone. "This is just  _too_  good. I mean, really. I get a call from my insufferable flunkies pthat they've caught some punk kid sticking his nose into our operations. I tell them to take care of it, and they say they want  _me_  to handle it." He sighed melodramatically, shooting Danny a wicked smirk. "I always get stuck with the messy stuff." Danny gulped, but didn't speak. His voice seemed to be on the same frequency as his ghost powers at the moment – zero frequency, as in not working in the slightest. "But I'm a generous guy, when I want to be. I tell'em to bring the little busybody, and I'll take care of him. But then… I walk in here, and find none other than  _Danny Fenton_  is my guest."

Danny finally found his voice, and when he spoke, he sounded a lot more scared and pathetic than he would have hoped. "How do you know me? I've never seen you."

The Cougar smirked. "No, I guess you haven't," he conceded. "We haven't been formally introduced, but I know  _so much_  about you. I've been dying to meet you. You're actually just what I need. I was thinking about… enlisting… your help later on, but now that you've come so  _willingly_  into my clutches now, I believe I can afford to change my plans a bit." He snorted. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry; I keep coming back to this. But really, what are the odds?"

Danny shook his head slightly, and his voice was stronger the next time he spoke. "You're crazy."

"And you're in no position to insult me!" the man snapped, bringing his hand back and backhanding his captive roughly across the face in the first show of actual anger since his appearance.

Stunned, Danny licked the right side of his mouth tentatively, tasting blood. The whole side of his face felt like it had caved in. Everything, even his teeth, on the right side hurt. Hot tears stung the corners of his eyes, but he didn't give in. Instead, he locked gazes with his attacker, and with newfound bravado, he snapped, "You're not going to get away with this!"

The Cougar laughed. "Oh,  _what_  cheesy Saturday morning cartoon did you steal  _that_  line from, Fenton?" he asked sarcastically. "Really, kid, grow up and face the facts." The man's meaty hand shot out toward Danny's face again, and despite himself, the teen flinched slightly. Instead of slapping him again, The Cougar took hold of Danny's jaw in firm but not rough fingers. Danny stiffened and barely breathed as his head was tilted up, back, and forth as he was examined. He stared resolutely at a shiny brass button on The Cougar's suit no matter which direction his head was turned, and tried not to wince at the pain that sprung up anew in his face at the guy's touch. Jerking his captive's head forward slightly, The Cougar leaned in and spoke to Danny, his surprisingly minty-fresh breath spilling over Danny's face. "You're so far off the radar, kid, that nobody's going to be able to help you. You're in way over your head, and I'm not going to allow you the luxury of coming up for air for one second. But don't worry, I'm not going to kill you – yet. You're going to prove to be  _very_  useful to me." He released Danny's aching face abruptly, patting the boy lightly on the injured side of his face and making him cringe.

Danny glared at him. "If you're trying to get some kind of ransom, you're screwed, dude," he said, ignoring the little voice in the back of his head that told him to shut up. "My family—"

"Oh, I know all about your family, Fenton. And it's not money I'm after. It's knowledge."

Danny blinked. "Well, you sure as heck aren't going to get that from me, either. I've got a C average and—"

"Yes, yes, everyone in your life is well aware that you are an under-achiever," The Cougar snapped. Danny wisely shut his mouth, seeing that the man was getting irritated. "But I don't have to explain myself to you."

Danny scowled and looked away from the gang leader. His eyes wandered to the box of drugs across the room, almost of their own accord. The Cougar chuckled, and when Danny's eyes landed on him again, he was smirking. "I'll bet you're curious about what got you into this situation in the first place, aren't you, Daniel?" Danny couldn't help looking at the box again. "No, no, there's nothing for you in there – right now," the man said ominously. Danny's heart jumped. They were thinking about giving him drugs? "We've still got some kinks to work out, and while you are going to prove  _invaluable_  to our scientific endeavors, we can't test our products on you until we are at  _least_  seventy-five percent they won't kill you. After all, if you die, you'll be of no help to us whatsoever." He smiled calmly at his prisoner.

Danny's heart was pounding madly against his rib cage. He still didn't have a clue what he'd stumbled into, but he  _did_  know that it was even worse than he'd originally thought, considering that the ringleader of this group of bad guys apparently had it out for Danny, despite the fact that Danny had no idea who he was. "I'm telling you, I don't know who—"

"Of course you don't," The Cougar said gleefully. "That's what makes this whole game so exciting." His eyes flitted down to his left wrist, and for the first time, Danny noticed the diamond-encrusted watch wrapped around the appendage. Dang, this guy was rich. "Well, I've got an appointment in about…. Mmmm… twenty minutes that I just can't miss. Tell you what. I'll leave you with my men to entertain you. Don't worry, you'll be relatively safe with them. I'll visit you again later, and we'll get to know each other a little more." He winked and sauntered almost merrily out of the room. Danny watched him go, fear and confusion battling for the title of Most Prominent Emotion in his aching mind.

In the few moments that he was alone, Danny said, "I'm going ghost!"

He didn't go ghost.

Then he was rejoined by the men who had brought him here, and he knew that things could only go from bad to worse from here.

* * *

"Do you have the map Danny drew up?"

"Of course! You don't think I'd let us go on a field trip to the Ghost Zone without directions, do you?"

"Yes," Sam snapped irritably, "I do. I know you, Tucker, and that's just the kind of stupid move you would try."

Tucker frowned as he and Sam buckled themselves in to the Specter Speeder. He looked like he was about to argue, but then he nodded shortly. "Yeah, you're probably right. But I can't afford to rush into this, not this time. Danny needs us."

"You bet he does!" a peppy voice sounded from the back area of the Speeder. Sam and Tucker both jumped and spun around to see Jazz, Danny's older sister, pop up from behind the seats. "Hey, guys, I  _knew_ you'd come!"

"Uh," said Sam.

"Look," Jasmine said, her blue eyes sharp as she looked at her brother's best friends, "I know you don't trust me, and I know I get on your nerves. But Danny needs us. I knew you'd be down here to get into the Ghost Zone, because that's what I would do. So I came down here after school and waited.  _And_ ," the over-enthusiastic ginger added, "I helped you out. Wonder why it was so easy to sneak down here? I sent Mom and Dad on a wild goose chase to follow some ghostly lead I made up to buy us time."

Sam and Tucker stared at the girl, who glared belligerently back. "I'm coming with you guys," she said, her tone booking no room for argument. "Three heads are better than two, and we'll have a better chance if we work together."

Finally, Sam spoke. Her voice was kinder than usual as she said, "I know you're worried about Danny. But Tucker and I actually know what we're doing—" Tucker coughed dubiously at his friend's claim while Jazz raised her eyebrows. "Okay, we know  _more_  about what we're doing than you do. Danny's already missing, and he was supposed to be with us when it happened. We can't be responsible for you and have something happen to you, too. You understand, right?"

"I understand," Jazz said firmly, "that the only way you're going to be able to get me out of the Specter Speeder is to remove me by force. Do you  _really_ want to waste time trying to drag me out of here? Or can we  _please_ just get out of here and focus on finding my little brother?"

Sam and Tucker exchanged nervous looks, but before either could respond, their decision was made for them as the voices of Jack and Maddie Fenton wafted down the stairs, indicating that the ghost hunters were on their way down to the lab.

"Crap," Sam muttered. "Let's go."

She started the Speeder, trying not to think about what would happen when the Fentons reached the lab and found it, along with the other child, gone.

"So, what now?" Jazz asked. "What's the plan?"

"Well, we're going to sort of ask around, see if we can actually find a ghost that  _doesn't_  hate Danny for catching them, and see if we can get them to help us," Sam supplied.

Jazz blinked. "This plan was  _really_  not thought out that well, was it?"

"Well, excuse me if I only had lunch period to think it out!" Sam snapped. "I'm doing all that I can."

Jazz fumed at the back of Sam's head as the black-haired girl propelled the Speeder through the Ghost Zone, which, for some reason, looked even eerier than usual.

"Man," Tucker said glumly. "We are in  _so_  much trouble."

"Maybe," Jazz nodded, "but we're probably better off than Danny is right now."

That shut everyone up, and they settled themselves in for a long, possibly fruitless journey. Still, they were doing something, and they could only hope that they were doing the right thing in searching for answers here, and that Danny would be found before it was too late.


	5. It's Experimental, My Dear Fenton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said at the beginning, this is all I have written so far, but I'll add chapters as they're written and added to fanfiction.net. Thanks for reading!

The next time that The Cougar came for him, he had three completely new goons with him, and they were all wearing white lab coats. Danny wasn't quite sure what to think about this new development, and he wasn't really given time to dwell on it, because without a word, The Cougar pulled out a hypodermic needle filled with a clear liquid from seemingly nowhere and had plunged it into Danny's arm before the teenager even had a chance to remember how much he hated needles.

Darkness.

* * *

When he woke up, Danny was no longer tied to the chair, and while this was a relief, he was more than a little bit nervous to find that he was now reclining back on some sort of adjustable operating table, his wrists, ankles, and neck held firm to the cold metal surface with tight leather straps that pinched his skin. He wasn't gagged, and he was alone. "I'm going ghost," he whispered, just for kicks, and nothing happened.

He struggled, but when it became apparent that all he was doing was hurting the tender skin of his wrists and neck as they chafed beneath the leather, he stopped, taking a deep breath to try to calm himself. He didn't know what was going on, but he didn't like it. He remembered the goons in lab coats and fervently hoped that he wasn't about to be operated on. He wasn't quite ready to donate his body to science, especially considering that he was still alive and all.

He waited for what seemed like ages, but what was in actuality only about fifteen minutes. Finally, the door opened, and The Cougar re-entered the empty-except-for-the-creepy-operating-table room, followed closely by his three cronies. The two in front were wheeling some sort of table between them. From his position, Danny could only see what was going on from his peripheral vision, but even the little bit he could make out would have made him feel  _very_ uneasy, even if he hadn't been ominously strapped to a table. The Cougar and his men stopped beside Danny, and Danny saw what appeared to be some needles on the table.  _More needles, great,_  he thought, his stomach doing a cartwheel.  _Just what I want. Oh wait, no… what I_ want _is to find a way_ out  _of this place!_

The Cougar stood over him, leering, and a very creeped out Danny Fenton finally snapped, "What do you want from me?"

"You're just as brave - or perhaps foolish - as my informant told me," The Cougar stated, his eyes glinting maliciously. "Even without your powers, you aren't quaking in the face of danger. I can respect that. Unfortunately for you, that respect does not equate my releasing you, because you are far too valuable to my work."

Danny's brain was buzzing frantically. "Powers?" he asked, cursing his voice for becoming high-pitched and squeaky all of a sudden. "What powers?" He thought that playing ignorant might be the best course of action, but it was immediately apparent by the unimpressed expression on The Cougar's face that the man didn't believe him in the slightest. Danny's mind whirred as he waited for his captor to respond. So this man knew about Danny Phantom? Was he a ghost? Someone possessed by a ghost? He wasn't sure, but he knew that whatever situation he'd been so unceremoniously tossed into was even worse than he had originally thought.

"Oh, please, Fenton. It's a good thing you're not an aspiring actor, because you're not very believable. No, I know about your 'ghost powers.' And I'm actually quite interested in them. Don't worry; I'm not going to kill you, or even seriously harm you. You're far too rare for me to rid the world of. In fact, you can even say that I'm going to use you for  _good_." The way that the man said the word "good," and the gleam in his eyes when he said it, made Danny think that this guy's definition of good was a heck of a lot different from everybody else's good. He would even go so far as to say that it was  _bad._

"Why don't I believe you?" Danny mused sarcastically, his eyes flashing angrily. "Oh, yeah," he answered his own question, cynicism dripping from his words, "Maybe it has something to do with the way you've strapped me to a table! Something tells me that the 'good' of the world isn't exactly what you have in mind here!" He tugged futilely at the leather strips that tied him down.

The Cougar just laughed. "On the contrary, discovering a foolproof way of effectively and totally controlling the ghost population will  _drastically_  help the world."

Danny felt the blood rush from his face. "Wh-what?" he asked.

"My… patron," the man said, eyes glinting malevolently, "is  _very_ interested in creating a solution that has the potential to quite literally  _kill_ any and all beings of the ectoplasmic nature."

Danny's heart pounded in his head. He tried to imagine a world without ghosts - Amity Park without ghosts. While the prospect of some peace and quiet at home was far from unpleasant, Danny couldn't help but think about what would ultimately be genocide with horror. And there  _were_  some okay ghosts. He even had a couple friendly ghost friends - and no, not one of them was named Casper. But generally, the ghosts weren't a problem when they were in the Ghost Zone. To kill all of the ghosts -

Danny froze in his thought process, confusion setting in. He must still be pretty out of it, because he should have seen this before. "Wait a second," he said. "Did you just say that you were going to  _kill_  ghosts?"

"Yes," purred The Cougar.

"Kill... ghosts?" Danny repeated, just to clarify.

"Mm-hm, that's right."

"You do know that ghosts are... you know, not alive, right? That's why they're... ghosts. You can't kill something that is already dead."

"I can't?" The Cougar asked, looking totally taken aback. Danny narrowed his eyes, not trusting a thing that his captor did or said. "Oh, but that means all this planning was for nothing..." He smirked at his own sarcasm, which Danny found to be arrogant and quite frankly, obnoxious. "I'm telling you, kid - when I have my finished product, all it will take is one drop, and any ghost it touches will be completely and utterly destroyed. Gone. Vanished. Never existed. Where they go, I don't know. On? Maybe, wherever on is. But the point is, they won't be here. For all intents and purposes, they'll be  _dead_."

"Why would you want to do that? If they're in the Ghost Zone -"

"Oh, look who finally admits to knowing about the ghosties," The Cougar snarled. "'What powers?'" he mocked waspishly. "And what, Danny? Are you going to say that if they're in the Ghost Zone, they're not doing anyone harm? Please. No matter what 'zone' or 'world' or whatever they inhabit, ghosts are a problem. But regardless of that, I never said that I  _was_  going to kill them all. I said that I would have the  _power_  to kill them all. I understand your confusion, though. Subtle differences, and all."

Danny's eyebrows scrunched together. "You said something about  _controlling_  them," he said, a spark of understanding coming to them.

"Very good, Daniel. I'll admit, you're a little slower than I thought you'd be, but you're getting there. Slowly."

Danny tugged at the restraints again, trying to process everything that was going on. Part of him was itching to just spout off some sarcastic quips like he usually did during battle, but if there was any kind of battle going on, then it was obviously  _very_  one-sided, and without his ghost powers and at the mercy of a creep like The Cougar, he knew he had to watch his mouth so he wouldn't get into any more trouble - if that was even possible. He begrudgingly forced himself to calm down and said, "You mentioned a patron."

"Did I?"

Danny glared. "Who are you working for?"

"Myself."

"No, you mentioned someone else. Why are you doing this? Are you a ghost?"

"Dear me, you really  _are_  a bit dull. If I were a ghost, then why would I be trying to find a weapon to kill my own kind?"

Danny tried to shrug, but his bonds wouldn't allow him to, so he just settled with trying to flatten The Cougar with a seething look. "Humans kill humans all the time."

"True, they do," The Cougar almost hissed, and Danny didn't like the look that he saw in the man's eyes. Within just a couple of seconds of his agreeing with Danny, the criminal had whipped out a long, nasty looking dagger and had the point barely touching the vulnerable skin right under his chin, and above the neck strap. Danny didn't even swallow, afraid that the blade would nick him. Fear flooded through him, and he had to struggle to not slam his eyes shut as the prick of cold metal made the hairs on his restrained arms stand straight up. The Cougar looked Danny in the eyes, his own eyes suddenly unreadable. He fiddled with the dagger a little bit, causing the tip to just barely nip the skin. Because of the restraints, Danny couldn't see, but he could feel a small, warm trickle of blood on his neck. He sucked in a breath, unwilling to acknowledge his pain or fear.

With a short laugh, The Cougar withdrew the knife and sat it on the rolling medical table with the needles. Danny let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding.

"But you're not really human, are you?" The Cougar asked, the predatory gleam in his eyes making Danny wonder if he'd sighed in relief a little too soon. "No, you're unique. Half-ghost, half-human. Blood flows through your veins, but so does ectoplasm. You are a riddle that has never been solved."

"Just so you know, I'm not the only half-ghost out there," Danny supplied, deciding that there was really no point in denying the truth now that The Cougar had revealed that he knew so much. He didn't feel an ounce of sympathy ratting out Vlad, seeing how the jerk had been making life miserable for Danny for some time now.

"Oh, really?" The Cougar drawled, not looking impressed or surprised in the slightest. Danny deflated a little.

"Yeah... I can give you his address if you want it. You like cheese?" Danny blinked his eyes innocently.

"I'm lactose intolerant," The Cougar said dryly. "Now, enough talk. I know what you're doing, Danny. You're trying to stall me, and it's not going to work. I have a poison to make, and I need your help."

Danny glared stonily at his opponent. "What makes you think I'd help you?" the teenager snapped churlishly.

"Oh, nothing," The Cougar smiled darkly. "I don't think that at all. Willingly, at least." Danny gulped and half-heartedly pulled at his bonds again, knowing that they weren't going to break. "But I am still in the experimenting stage, and every time I try to use a ghost as a guinea pig, they don't last long enough for me to be able to tell what I'm doing right or wrong, and I think there's  _something_  in their ectoplasm that I need to isolate in order to truly be able to destroy them, but you can't extract ectoplasm from a ghost, because they're not solid so you can't stick a needle in their arm and get what you need."

Danny paled. "I'm not a ghost," he said. "Not full ghost, anyway. Especially not now. My... my powers are gone. So how will that help you?"

"I've just managed to contain your powers; they're not  _gone_. You can't use them, certainly not, but the ghost DNA still thrives in your veins. DNA that I  _need_."

"O...kay," Danny said slowly. "So, it's just a little blood work, then? A trip to the doctor's, here's a sticker, come see me in six months?"

The Cougar chortled. "Cute, Daniel. Using sarcasm and humor to try and hide your anxiety and pain.  _So_ original." He briefly turned his attention to the goons with him, gesturing for something. Danny strained to lift his head up as far as he could to see what was going on, and he felt the spot of dry blood crack on his neck as he did so. Squinting, he saw one of the men reach into his lab coat and pull out a couple of vials. "Ah, thank you." He took the containers and placed them on the table, picking up an empty hypodermic needle. "Yes, Danny, I do need to take some blood, but that's not it. You see, you are going to be my new guinea pig. With your unique infrastructure, I should be able to not only isolate the genes I need, but conduct some much needed experiments that would more than likely maim or obliterate any full-ghost test subjects before I could learn anything."

Danny's heart hammered in his chest. "N-no," he said, cursing himself for the small stutter of fear. He was Danny Phantom, darn it!

"Now hold still, young man. This won't hurt a bit." He took a tourniquet from the table and managed to wrap it tightly around Danny's upper arm, despite the boy's increasing struggles. "Now, now, Danny, you're only going to make it harder..." Danny, his mind in full-on panic mode, didn't obey, thrashing around as much as his restraints would allow him, which wasn't much but enough to make it  _very_  difficult for The Cougar to find a place to stick the needle in his arm. Suddenly, Danny's head snapped back, the back of his head slamming into the table, and he saw stars. His head pounded, and he realized he'd just been punched in the jaw by one of the goons. Dazed, Danny stopped struggling, if only because he quite forgot why he was struggling for a short moment. By the time his head cleared and the ring of metaphorical, chirping birdies had stopped circling around his head, He'd already felt a sharp pain on the underside of his elbow, and before he knew it, The Cougar was standing over him, two vials of Danny's own blood held triumphantly in his hands.

"Excellent," he said, not bothering to bandage the slugglishly bleeding wound. He beamed at his newest lab rat. "I'll leave you alone for now, Daniel. I'll be back soon so that we can really start experimenting, though." He chuckled. "See you later, Fenton. Or should I say...  _Phantom_."

He, followed closely by his thugs, bowed out of the room, still glowering madly, leaving a terrified, helpless, and bleeding Danny strapped to a table with nothing to do except fret over what was going to happen next.


End file.
